


BuckyBun

by jjjat3am



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky gets a bunny, falls in love and walks the path to recovery. </p>
<p>It's about as cute as you'd imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BuckyBun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [babebanner](http://babebanner.tumblr.com/) for the marvelrarepairs exchange, the prompt was: "taking care of a pet"
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Dedicated to my bun Zeki. I miss you bby.

 

 

Bucky’s life is built around routines. You wouldn’t think it was possible, for someone who lived with people that were frequently called on to defend the world from certain devastation, but Bucky tried anyway.

 

He’d wake up every evening, after Sam, but before Steve, then shuffle to the kitchen (checking the parameter; the windows, the doors, cross referencing sound and color, and was that jogger on the street just an early riser or a HYDRA agent ?) and walk in just in time to startle Sam into almost dropping the coffee pot.

 

“Make noise, dammit.” Sam would mutter, but he’d always smile after, hand him a fresh brew, maybe pat Bucky’s arm when he moved past, collecting the files he’d left open on the kitchen table the night before.

 

Sam believed in big breakfasts and the morning spread usually featured eggs in at least two ways, bacon, toast, pancakes, fruit salad and sometimes even fresh muffins from the bakery down the block, if Sam had woken particularly early that day.

 

(Sam didn’t sleep much, or very well for that matter. At first Bucky thought that it was because of the master assassin he had camping out on his couch, but then he realized that Sam had his own demons too. That would have been a relief, because for once something wasn’t Bucky’s fault. But this is Sam and Bucky finds himself invested in his well-being despite himself.)

 

Usually, Sam would give him a task to do, like scrambling the eggs or cutting the fruit for the salad. Bucky still marveled at the fact that Sam even trusted him around knives in his home. He’d even asked him about it once.

 

“Oh, please,” Sam had raised an eyebrow, one eye on the eggs, the other on the clock, “as if there were anyone more qualified. You could probably carve a swan out of that orange if you tried.”

 

Bucky did try. It was quite the likeness. Steve laughed so hard he almost spit out his coffee and Sam just rolled his eyes at them both. But he was smiling, and so from there on out Bucky tried to carve out a different animal or object out of fruit every morning, with varying rates of success.

 

(Turns out you can’t make a cat out of a banana, or a rhino from a pear. But his pineapple falcon was a hit.)

 

Then Steve would wander in, right about the time the bacon started to smell particularly tantalizing, dropping into the chair next to Bucky just to steal a slice of apple from his cutting board in a quick move that would have anyone else losing their fingers. And they would talk and they would eat, until it Sam was almost late for work (and that almost always happened). It would be up to Bucky and Steve to clear the dishes and the leftovers, before getting on with their day.

 

Sometimes they’d watch a movie, or Steve would sketch, while Bucky read a book, and sometimes they’d get the call that Dr. Doom was invading lower Manhattan with his army of mind-controlled drones. That happened more often than either of them would have liked.

 

 

*

 

 

Every week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays like clockwork (barring the event of alien invasion), Bucky would go to therapy.

 

His therapist was just a few blocks away from Sam’s house, so Bucky walked. He didn’t mind, because it helped him clear his head before the appointment and he always got to pass by the pet shop on his way.

 

He had a routine here too. On his first walk by, he’d only give the pet shop a passing glance, because he didn’t want to be late, and also because his head was already filled with a familiar mix of anxiety and apathy, and he didn’t want to risk running into anyone feeling like that.

 

But on the way back, he had more time to window shop and he’d stop in front of the pet store window to stare at the array of animals on display, tumbling over each other in the glass cages. Watching their carefree antics calmed him down, gave him time to rebuild some of his defenses before he met up with Steve and Sam.

 

Then one day he stopped at the window display and was confronted with a rabbit.

 

The bunny had gray coloring and big blue eyes, and he was the most unspeakably adorable thing Bucky Barnes had ever laid his eyes on.

 

He spent over half an hour watching it move around the glass enclosure and was almost late for lunch. But he wouldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

 

 

*

 

 

Sometimes the therapy sessions don’t go so well.

 

Bucky doesn’t ever get violent, not since he first broke out of his programming, but he goes quiet and still, almost catatonic, and the therapist’s office usually need to call the apartment for someone to come pick him up.

 

Usually, it’s Steve. He’s very good at coaxing Bucky out of his shell, will slip into his comforting Brooklyn drawl and then draw him into a long hug, and Bucky will be, if not alright, at least better. But it isn’t Steve’s voice he can hear talking to the receptionist this time. The therapist never greets Steve so enthusiastically.

 

Bucky flexes his fingers where they’re resting in his lap, trying to dispel the image of the blood on them, and prepares to face Sam when he comes into the room. He tries to think of something to say, but he isn’t sure in which language it’ll come out, so he clamps his mouth firmly shut instead.

 

Thankfully, it turns out he doesn’t have to say much of anything. Sam takes one look at him and frowns, then nods absently, turning back to say something to the therapist that Bucky can’t hear, because he’d just stood up and it made him very dizzy.

 

Sam comes to stand at his side, saying something in a calming tone. His fingers come up to grip Bucky’s forearm and he guides Bucky firmly out the door and into the street.

 

They walk through traffic carefully, Bucky still trapped in the midst of an episode, the silhouettes of pedestrians overlapping with bodies he’d seen fall, the sidewalks filled with phantom snow. He’s only distantly aware of the path they’re taking, concentrating on Sam’s hand gripping his own and the familiarity of his presence. Still, he startles Sam when he stops stock still in front of the pet store, turning to stare through the window.

 

The grey bunny is still there, in his glass cage, padded with big wood chips. As Bucky watches it, sits on its hind legs to raise itself up, long silky ears twitching. Bucky wonders if it can hear how fast he’s breathing through the wall.

 

He watches the bunny for an unidentifiable amount of time, watches as it hops around in the enclosure, pausing to drink from its tank or sniff at something on the floor. When he finally tears his eyes away to look at Sam, waiting patiently by his side, he’s as much Bucky Barnes as he was that morning.

 

“Let’s go home,” he says, his voice rasping as it comes out through his sore throat. He doesn’t remember screaming, but he must have. He’ll have to apologize to his therapist the next time he goes.

 

“Sure,” Sam says as they head down the street towards home, “Steve is making meatloaf apparently. He called from somewhere over Atlanta. We’ll see how that goes.”

 

“We can always order takeout,” Sam laughs at that and Bucky actually manages a smile in return.

 

He’s surprised at how grateful he is that it was Sam that came to pick him up.

 

 

*

 

 

Sam broaches the topic over dinner. Steve’s meatloaf was a resounding success, to the surprise of everyone, and the three of them are just letting the food settle in their stomach and listening to Steve recount the non-classified details of his mission. There’s a beat of silence when he finishes and Sam leans forward, carefully avoiding the empty plates.

 

“Hey, I was just thinking,” he starts, gaze darting in Bucky’s direction, “the landlord allows pets if we want them.”

 

“Okay,” Steve frowns, looking between them, “do we want a pet?”

 

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat, concentrating carefully on the dirtied up silverware on the table.

 

“Yeah,” Sam nudges his foot under the table. “I think we should get a bunny.”

 

 

*

 

 

They make a strange foursome, walking down the street from the pet shop to the apartment. Steve is laden down with bags of rabbit food and wood shavings, while Sam jingles as he moves from all the toys he’s got in his bags.

 

They walk on either side of Bucky, who has a pet carrier clenched carefully in sweaty palms, staring wonderingly at the animal inside.

 

Bun the bunny twitches his whiskers and tries to brace himself so he doesn’t get thrown around too much.

 

They don’t buy a cage. Bucky insists.

 

 

*

 

 

The first week in his new home Bun the bunny chews through the following:

  *          One side of a decorative pillow
  *          The laces on Sam’s shoes
  *          One of Bucky’s blankets
  *          The landline phone cord
  *          Mabel



 

Most of those things aren’t really an issue or are easily fixed. The pillow is simply turned the other way round and no one is the wiser, and Bucky sleeps with three blankets anyway, it doesn’t much matter if one of them is letting in a draft. Sam keeps tripping over his shoes for one whole day before admitting defeat. The shoes were old and worn anyway, and he’s needed a replacement, but had been putting it off for months. They all go to the store together and end up stopping a robbery in progress, so Bun’s little transgression actually saves the day.

 

Nobody actually uses the landline except telemarketers, and Sam is glad to be rid of those.

 

But Mabel…Mabel is a problem.

 

It didn’t take long for Bucky to realize that Mabel was one of Steve’s most prized possessions. She occupies a prime spot in Steve’s bedroom and Bucky can often hear him speaking to her tenderly, in a tone one would use for a child. He tries to respect that as much as possible and tries to tune out as much as possible when Steve goes on about mineral soil and water softness.

 

Mabel is Steve’s favorite indoor plant, a huge ficus that takes up almost half of his room. A huge ficus that apparently has very tasty leaves, at least as far as Bun is concerned.

 

So Bucky is trying not to panic over Bun getting sick from the leaves and Steve is most definitely panicking over Mabel’s missing lower leaves, and that’s how Sam finds them. They’re facing off in the living room, Bun in Bucky’s arms, the very picture of innocence, and Steve, brandishing a half chewed leaf in his hands like a weapon, both of them hissing curses at each other in their thickest Brooklyn accent.

 

Sam takes one look at them and laughs himself hoarse.

 

In less than five minutes, Steve is on his favorite gardening website, looking for tips on how to fix his plant and Sam is phoning the vet while Bucky anxiously hovers over his shoulder.

 

Bun peacefully munches on the wooden edge of the coffee table.

 

 

*

 

 

Bucky gets left in the apartment alone often.

 

Sam and Steve are often called up for missions for the Avengers Initiative, led by the now reformed SHIELD. If there‘s one thing that always stays true, then it's that the world never runs out of bad people.

 

While they're gone, Bucky lives in a constant state of worry and guilt. He should be out there with them, shielding their backs with his arm and his knives. But he can't. Every time he tries, all he sees is Sam falling with the wings burning up on his back and Steve's body bruised and water logged on the bank. He doesn't trust himself and he isn't sure if they should either.

 

Both of them effectively support him now, since he doesn't have a job, or an official identity for that matter. It'd be humiliating if it weren't so absolutely comforting. He wonders sometimes what his father might think of him now, his son being a kept man. But then again, his son is also a killer that only has the vaguest memories of his father's existence, so maybe it doesn't matter.

 

So Bucky keeps the house clean, cooks dinner and keeps the first aid kit nearby. He keeps the fort so his boys have a safe space to return to. It's lonely, sure, but it's a small price to pay.

 

He doesn't anticipate how getting Bun might affect his waiting time.

 

The bunny is getting quite confident in navigating the apartment. It still isn't comfortable straying too far from its food bowl and the couch that Bucky sleeps on, but it has this adorable habit of following Bucky everywhere he goes.

 

Bun's presence means he has someone to talk to all the time, someone who doesn’t judge him for what he says. Bucky talks and Bun listens, occasionally raising himself on its hind legs to hear even better. It’s like having his own fluffy therapist at home, except Bucky can let go of the nagging doubt that he may be an informant.

 

Sometimes, Bucky is silent and he watches instead. Watches Bun navigate the nooks and crannies of their apartment or pick his favorite bits out of his rabbit food. It’s calming and settling, especially when Bucky feels dissociated.

 

Bun doesn’t like his metal arm. His fur snags in the steel joints and while completely dexterous, the limb isn’t exactly made for petting furry animals. Bucky doesn’t blame him. He’s not a fan either.

 

Bun climbs up with him on the couch and they watch the news together for any sign of Sam and Steve. Bucky strokes Bun’s soft fur and it helps contain his anxiety. Whenever he happens to stop stroking, lost in dangerous thoughts, Bun nips him gently on the forearm and brings him back to himself.

 

But Bun seems happier when they’re all home together. He races from one set of feet to the other at the kitchen table, muttering happily in his rabbit speak and nipping on their heels. Bucky has a sneaking suspicion that Steve keeps sneaking him bites of his salad and that it’s why Bun always settles on Steve’s feet until they’re done eating.

 

After dinner, they all squeeze together on the couch and Bun runs from one end to the other to receive back rubs and ear strokes and everything a bunny needs for a happy existence. He usually ends up in Sam’s lap, because Sam is some sort of savant when it comes to bunny back rubs apparently. Watching their content expressions, Bucky can’t decide who he’s more jealous of, the man or the rabbit. Because Bun is supposed to be his bunny, but Bucky can’t really fault him for enjoying Sam’s hands.

 

And, in any case, when Bucky settles in for the night, still sleeping on Sam’s couch, because there was no other place to put him, Bun is right there next to him, huddling his small body next to Bucky’s big frame and they fall asleep like that, watching over each other.

 

 

*

 

 

As much as Bun’s arrival has Bucky finally growing into himself as a person, it also has the unexpected side-effect of bringing up certain feelings that Bucky has been trying to ignore.

 

The thing is that what’s between Bucky and Steve has always been immense, forged between back-alley brawls and exploding bombs, but Bucky’s missing memories have made it into something tender, strewn with broken glass. So Bucky waters Mable and Steve draws Bun over and over again, until the day Bucky lets him draw his hands holding the bunny. Their tense silences smooth into good natured and Bun hops in circles around them, sensing the happy mood.

 

However, Sam is unexpected.

 

A visceral awareness of the warmth of Sam’s smile or the movement of muscle under an old T-shirt turns into a desire to run his fingers over it, to kiss and to hold. It’s exhilarating, but even more frightening. It’s been years, since he’s had to face his old chair and it’s multitude of wires and tubes, but he’s still re-learning how to be Bucky Barnes and what it means to be human instead of a machine. He’s still more than a little broken, a Frankenstein monster patched together with love and a lot of trust.

 

He has very little to offer anyone, much less someone like Sam Wilson, who gives the impression of being comfortably settled into his skin.

 

But Bun doesn’t seem to care about anything that Bucky isn’t or anything that he was. He doesn’t care that the hands that cut up his carrots or stroke him so tenderly were once caked with blood of people whose faces he can barely remember. Bun still looks up at him with complete trust and affection.

 

And so Bucky watches Sam from behind Bun’s upturned ears and thinks _maybe_.

 

 

*

 

 

_Maybe_ turns into _definitely_ one early afternoon, when Sam comes home with a whole bag of carrots for Bun and Bucky kisses him over the kitchen counter while the rabbit tugs impatiently on his sock.

 

Because there are some things that you know will bring you happiness. Like getting a pet. Or kissing someone you love, because they made a side trip to an organic grocery store over half an hour out of their way, just so they could buy your rabbit some carrots.

 

 

*

 

 

Bucky wakes up disoriented, unsure of what woke him. He reaches out to the other side of the bed, finding it empty, which isn’t unusual because Sam is still out on a mission. Bun isn’t on the bed either; he doesn’t sleep with Bucky as often now that he’s officially moved into Sam’s bedroom, preferring to spend his nights exploring the apartment, doing who-knows-what.

 

He’s about to throw the duvet over his head and fall back asleep when he hears it; a faint rabbit stomp. Silence. Then another stomp, even louder.

 

It’s unusual to say the least; Bun does stomp sometimes, but that’s only when he’s feeling especially temperamental or over-stimulated from too much petting. He’s never stomped without provocation before. It fills Bucky with a sense of unease.

 

He rolls onto his side, carefully easing open the nightstand drawer, grasping the knife he knows Sam keeps there.

 

It’s been a few years since he’s last held a weapon in his hands with the intent to hurt,; a price he’d had to pay for his peace of mind, but the knife fits into his hand like it was made to be there. He represses a shudder of disgust, moving carefully through the door.

 

Bucky barely catches the sight of a dark figure before it’s upon him. What follows is a blur of punches and kicks and the bright silvery flashes of knives, and by the time Sam and Steve are breaking down the door, breathless with fear for him, he’s got the intruder weaponless and prone on the floor. Still breathing.

 

Steve leans on the wall, shield by his feet, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, face a picture of relief. Sam’s wings clang against the doorway, because he hadn’t folded them properly in his haste to get inside. Bucky lays the knife carefully on the coffee table, leaning down to scoop Bun into his arms from his hiding place between two couch cushions, trying not to get any of the blood from his hands onto the grey fur.

 

“My hero,” he mutters into the soft fur, while Bun snuffles happily into his neck.

 

 

*  


 

A couple of SHIELD agents come to pick up the prisoner and Bucky tries to avoid looking at their faces, as well as the knife they bag up and label. They depart as quietly as they came in, leaving them in their mess of a living room.

 

None of them sleeps that night.

 

Instead they settle on their couch together, Bucky snuggled up in Sam’s arms and Steve sitting a little bit apart, but close enough to tuck his toes under Bucky’s thigh, trying to hide them from Bun that persists on digging on his socks.

 

They watch TV, sound on low and lights on, all of them listening for any sounds that might mean an ambush, might mean that they have to fight for the home they’d built.

 

The morning dawns bright and diamond clear, the orange rays creeping through the windows to shine on their sleeping faces. Only Bun is still alert, long ears twitching. He turns his head to lick at a red spot on his torso and then raises himself on his hind legs to make sure that everything is still in order.

 

He briefly contemplates the shiny circular thing leaned up against the couch, deciding if it might be good to chew on, but then one of the humans moves, the big grey one, and Bun hops over to inspect him. He lets out a small noise of distress and Bun climbs onto his lap to headbutt his stomach. It seems to help, because the human stops making noises and drifts off again.

 

Bun resumes his vigilance from his new perch. The humans sleep on and Bun listens carefully for any predators that might come disturb their sleep.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/), we can cry over superheroes together.


End file.
